


You're Too Short But The Tattoos Are Real

by Idzzdi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, M/M, Modeling, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idzzdi/pseuds/Idzzdi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick drags Harry to a fanshion show and Harry is not excited at all. But then there’s that one male model who’s a little too short and has some real nice tattoos so things aren’t that bad after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Too Short But The Tattoos Are Real

It was Nick’s idea to go, but of course he’s going to deny that. Harry doesn’t care though, doesn’t understand where the problem is in admitting that Nick likes going to fashion shows. But Nick insists it underlines just how gay he is and he doesn’t like that, so in case anybody asks it was Harry’s idea to go.

(When Harry puts in that he’s gay himself Nick only bats him away, saying the isn’t  _out_  and so it doesn’t count, which Harry thinks is unfair, but the also knows better than to argue with Nick and so he shuts up.)

They meet Pixie by the entrance and to Harry’s immense delight she starts laughing loudly when Nick claims it was Harry’s idea to go.

“I know it wasn’t, dear,” she says, patting Nick’s shoulder lightly “but it’s okay, I won’t tell anybody.” She laughs again then and Harry cackles along with her, grinning at the sour expression on Nick’s face.

“Let’s just go,” he grumbles and then he stalks off, leaving Pixie and Harry to follow them on their own accord. Pixie links her arm with Harry’s and drags him with her a bit, leading them inside. She pats his arm like she had Nick’s shoulder before and sends him an apologetic smile.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fun,” she promises and Harry sends her a smile, even though he highly doubts he’s ever going to find a fashion show remotely interesting. He gets bored to easily and the runway always feels way too long. Harry doesn’t need more than five seconds to check out an outfit and deem whether he likes it or not.

(Usually he doesn’t. All the clothes are so over the top and totally not wearable, but apparently “not everything can be  _Prêt-à_ _-_ _porter,_  you have to appreciate the _Avant-garde_  looks as well“. At least that’s what Nick tells him.

Harry doesn’t need to know what the fancy French  _prêt-a-garde-whatever_  terms mean to know he  _still_ doesn’t like the clothes.)

When they find their seats Nick is already waiting on them, wiggling his legs in boredom and maybe anticipation. He gets really excited for these kinds of events. When he spots Pixie and Harry he waves them over and lets them take seats on either of his sides, grinning widely now.

Harry picks up the folded paper sitting on his seat before he plops down into the chair, glancing at the fancy silver and gold paper curiously. It has a list of all the designers and models featured in tonight’s show and also reads some sort of agenda that makes Harry groan.

“What’s wrong, love?” Nick asks as he bents over to glance over Harry shoulder.

“You tricked me,” Harry complains, pointing at the paper. “You said it was  _one_  show when actually it’s  _three_ shows.”

Nick only grins at him.

“I’m gonna leave after the first run,” Harry warns, threads maybe, but Nick only shakes his head gently, stretching his arm and putting it around Harry’s shoulder to rest on Harry’s chair casually.

“They have male models,” Nick putts in and Harry huffs at him.

“I’m _definitely_  not gonna help you fish afterwards.”

Nick ignores Harry’s snippy comment and cocks his head to the side.

“Have you ever been to a show with male models?”

“No, and if I had a choice I wouldn’t be at this one either. What do I care if the pretty face on the runway wears dresses or a pair of trousers?”

Nick is still grinning at him, even though Harry is clearly not joking and clearly not amused  _at all_ _._

“Well you know, let’s just wait and see,” he says all mysteriously and Harry wants to say back something nasty, wants to get up and leave Nick alone, but that wouldn’t be fair to the designers and anyways, the lights are juts being dimmed and low music starts playing.

Well, then. Harry can sit through a fashion show. Or three, whatever.

The first designer comes out and introduces his collection, talks about inspiration and it’s all pretty boring to Harry. Nick however, is leaning forwards, his elbows propped up on his thighs and his eyes wide with attention. Harry wishes he could be this intrigued with the “difficulties in the designing process when trying to weave silk like water, the challenge to captured such perfect movement and translate it into fashion.”

_Blah Blah Blah._

When the designers leaves and the music for the models starts up Nick shots Harry a quick grin, teeth showing and Harry can’t help but grin back, nod enthusiastically as if to say that he’s just as excited.

The first show goes by rather quickly and while Harry had been fascinated with the sculptured wave-like structure of the first piece he soon had to find that  _every_  piece had the same structure and well. The pieces are all blue and all look like a wave. The models all have to wear what looks like buckets to Harry over their heads and he thinks it seems like they just didn’t have enough time or money to come up with proper hair and makeup.

When he tells Nick that, he thinks Nick is  _this_  close to actually sending him outside or to corner to think about what he had just said.

_Whoopsie_ _._

When the second designer announces his collection was inspired by birds Harry expects the worst.

It doesn’t gets quite that bad though. The girls have some feathers in their hair glued to their eyes (their  _lashes_ Pixie insists, and that’s  _cool_  okay?), but the clothes are relievingly feather free and there are no sleeves that resemble wings or other crazy things.

In fact Harry finds it quite hard to see where the inspiration came from at all. Hesitatingly he shares that thought with Nick.

“It’s in the colors,” Nick tells him, his eyes never leaving the runway. Harry doesn’t quite understand what Nick means, but hefts his own eyes back on the runway as well.

The last few girls are gone and the first boy steps onto the runway, his strides longer and fiercer than the girls’ before. There’s something drawing to it and okay, Harry has to admit there’s a difference between girls and boys on the runway. Not just the _obvious_  difference, but also- Harry doesn’t know how to put it and his eyes just follow the model down the long runway, his eyes glued to his face.

His features look sharp and his cheek bones are high and prominent, making Harry want to lick them. The model’s eyes are bright blue and remind Harry of ice, yet still manage to make him feel tingly and warm on the inside.

When he reaches the front he stops for a small pose, the action looking painfully effortless, before he spins around and shrugs his hands into his pockets to finish the rest of his walk. He is walking on Harry’s side now and Harry admires the soft brown hair styled up in a quiff that looks sharp and trendy, yet doesn’t fail to let his hair look as soft as his skin. Harry wants to touch it.

When the boy passes them Harry faintly notes that he seems rather short, too short to be a model. Or maybe that’s just the height difference from all the girl in their high heels before? Harry doesn’t know, but when his eyes drop down from the back of the boy’s head to his bum he doesn’t care anymore either.

The trousers he wears fit his thighs and,  _god,_  his bum perfectly, hugging them tightly and leaving nothing to imagination.  _Shit_ _,_ why didn’t he pay attention to this when the boy was facing him?

For a moment Harry hopes the boy might turn around again before disappearing off the runway, but instead he only takes a sharp corner and strolls off without a second glance.

“That’s a magnificent coat, isn’t it?” Nick asks and Harry blinks at him slowly, trying to figure out what he’s talking about. “That coat,” Nick says again, nodding towards one of the other models on the runway as he seems to sense Harry has no idea what he’s talking about.

“Right, of course,” Harry agrees without having seen the coat. When he blinks again Nick turns to look at him, giving him a wide grin.

“What?” Harry asks, glancing back and forth between the runway and Nick.

“You seen something you like already?”

“What?” Harry asks again, blushing lightly. “No, no. ‘Course not. I’m not _you_ _.”_

“Yes, you did,” Nick says though, ignoring Harry’s shaking head. “He’ll come back out, just watch the runway.”

They’re quiet for a moment and Harry blinks again at Nick. And again.

“How do you-?”

“They  _all_  come back out. They all come at least twice, it’s the same with every fashion show. Seriously, to how many more shows do I have to take you before you start-” he keeps on rambling, but Harry’s attention shifts back to the runway. To the far end to be exact, his eyes staying fixed there, studying every new model hat walks onto the runway.

When the pretty boy comes back out Harry forgets to breath for a moment. Even though Harry can’t recall what the boy wore before he knows it’s something different now, because part of his chest is exposed and his arms and  _jesus_ _._ There’re tattoos, loads of tattoos. Harry hopes, prays, that they’re real and not some spray on fashion show thing, because  _fuck_ _._ Fuck, they’re hot.

When Harry does finally remember to breath his breath hitches and Nick notices.

“Is that him?” Nick hums, following Harry’s eyes, eying the boy himself as he strikes another casual pose before turning back around. Nick grins.

“Please, don’t,” Harry says right away, but of course Nick has already made up his mind. When the boy walks past their seats Nick sticks two of his fingers into his mouth and whistles loudly, making Harry cringe in his seat in an effort to have the ground swallow him up.

Nick only grins contently for the rest of the show, but Harry can’t even look up when the boy comes back out for the finale, trying to stop Nick from cheering as loudly as he does.

It’s no use.

~

Right after the show Nick drags both Harry and Pixie (who Nick already informed of Harry’s _“_ _massive_  crush on that one boy model”) backstage where the designers, models, reporters and everybody who considers himself VIP enough mingle and exchanges fake compliments. As soon as they step into the room a tall and undoubtedly handsome man with a face crafted by Zeus himself pulls Nick in a tight hug a presses a kiss on his cheek.

“Nicholas,” he chants and Nick grins back at him, patting his back lightly.

“Great to see you,” Nick says, but his smiles is a little too wide and Harry thinks he’s lying. “You looked great on the runway.”

The man beams. “Come on, come on. I’ll introduce you. We’ve got loads of new people this year.”

“You do,” Nick agrees and follows the god-crafted face through the large room closer towards the bar. “Young Harry here has already taken a liking in one of the other pretty faces up there with you.”

“Okay, we should not..” Harry says lowly, flushing bright red.

“Really?” is all the other man replies, ignoring Harry’s comment altogether. “Who is it? I don’t think anybody could resist a handsome face like yours.” He touches Harry chest affectionately as they walk and Harry doesn’t quite know how to deal with that. He isn’t out and other than Nick who somehow found out Harry isn’t all that straight nobody ever flirts with him. And well Nick doesn’t count because they’re too close and their flirting is neither here nor there.

When they reach the bar Harry can’t help that his eyes find the boy from the runway immediately. He’s stirring a little umbrella trough a colorful drink and looks utterly bored.

Nick catches Harry starring.

“Oh, that’s him,” Nick tells his model friend and the boy turn around the follow Nick’s gaze.

“Oh well, that’s Louis,” he says, his eyes twinkling at Harry. “Good choice.”

“Louis, dear!” he calls then across the room and the boy’s – Louis’ – head snatches up. “Come over,” he says and waves, though Louis probably can’t even hear him over the noise in the room. He gets up anyways and a moment later his body weaves through the mass of people, the drink in his hand swaying a bit.

“Louis, meet my friends,” the man who’s name Harry still doesn’t know says with a grin. “That’s Nick and his lady friend Pixie. And that’s Harry.”

“Yeah, I know,” Louis says sounding as bored as he looks. He stirs the umbrella through his drinks and looks Harry up and down. “Didn’t know popstars went to fashion shows.”

“He’s a big fan,” Nick assures for him and Harry blushes faintly, digging his hands into his pockets.

They stay silent for a while before Pixie announces she wants a drink and somehow Nick and his model friend go with them and before Harry knows it he’s alone with a boy too pretty to be real.

“So,” Louis prompts after a while, chewing on one end of the umbrella.

“Your tattoos are real,” is the first thing that comes to Harry’s mind and so he says it, only realizing how stupid that sounds once he’s said it. Louis grins at him.

“Yeah, they are,” he says with a laugh, tugging a bit on the short sleeve of the shirt he’s wearing. They fall silent again for a short moment, but Louis’ is cocking his head to the side already, studying Harry’s features.

“So, how did you like the show?” he asks and Harry blushes. For no reason at all.  _Great_ _._

“It’s was amazing. Great, really. The outfit,” he motions up and down Louis’ body “is amazing, too. Just, really really good.”

Louis barks out a laugh, looking at Harry incredulously. “You do know that these are just my own clothes, yeah?” He points at himself.

“’Course,” Harry lies quickly, blushing even more. “They do look nice, though.”

Louis laughs again. “Well, in that case: thank you. And now,” he stops to set his glass down on a table near by “do you wanna get out of here?”

“What?” Harry splutters, his eyes growing wide.

“Well, you’re clearly not here because you’re interested in fashion. And these after show parties are the most boring and forced events, so. Unless you have important popstar obligations to get back to tonight, I could show you how tiny of a flat you get for 400 a month in London,” he finishes, curling his fingers in the front of Harry’s shirt.

“400?” Harry asks, swallowing hard.

“It’s not a lot,” Louis continues, leaning in closer to whisper in Harry’s ear. “But I _can_  afford a double bed and maybe some cheap breakfast in the morning.”

“Sounds good,” Harry chokes out, sounding not nearly as smooth as he would like to, but Louis grins nevertheless and tells Harry to meet him by the door in five.

When Harry tells Nick he’s leaving already the man can barely contain his laughter, pulling Harry into a quick hug and telling him to be save before he sends him of, already promising that he’s going to want to hear the whole story tomorrow morning. Harry’s not too sure he’ll be willing to share.

When he finally steps outside Louis is already waiting, pulling his sweater tighter around his tiny body. He really is short for a model.

“Ready?” he asks and Harry nods, trying not to choke on his own spit when Louis reaches for his hand and tugs him down the road.

~

Later, when Harry’s breathing has slowed down and he’s pulled out of Louis, they’re lying next to each other on Louis’ bed which is actually only a mattress on the floor. Not that Harry is complaining.

The sheets are tangled around their bodies messily and Harry lets his eyes glide over the exposed skin of Louis’ body, his thighs and his bum. He strokes lazily over the dimples on Louis’ back and enjoys the way the boy shivers under his touch.

“You know,” Louis starts, his voice raspy and muffled by the pillows. “You know, I saw you staring. At the show. It was kind of obvious.”

“I didn’t whistle,” Harry tries to defend himself, even though there’s not real point in it now.

“But you  _were_  staring,” Louis insists with a chuckle. “And you are staring now.”

“I am,” Harry admits, biting his lower lip in an effort to keep from smiling like an idiot. Louis is quite the character.

“Well, stare all you want,” the boy then says, shifting around a bit. “I’m going to sleep now.”

“Okay.”

“And you better be there in the morning. Or else you’ll miss out on the greatest cheap breakfast you’ll ever have.”

“Okay.”

A smile tugs on Harry lips as he watches Louis turn over so his back is facing Harry.

“And you better come back afterwards as well.” He yawns. “I know a lot more sex things that a popstar like yourself might like.”

Harry is positively grinning now, watching the back of Louis’ head as he snuggles into his pillow. The implied message in Louis’ statement isn’t lost on Harry.

“Okay,” he agrees softly, scooting closer towards Louis carefully and draping his arm over his waist. Louis immediately sinks back into the touch and Harry shuffles even closer so they’re laying back to front and his nose is buried in Louis’ once styled but now positively sex-ruined hair. It smells like product and sweat, mainly sweet but a little bit musky and Harry thinks he could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? :)
> 
> Find me on tumblr! -----> hannahazza.tumblr.com


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